She Is No Longer Innocent About The Ways Of The World Poem by RIC BASTASA

you think she is as fragile as a thin glass of cherry wine
that when you touch the tip with your finger
she blushes and the glass gets warmer with your thumb
its bottom at the mercy of your palm

you like to think that she is a flower blooming on the month of May
where the dews are as careful as the sap of the red melon
nothing that stains the skin and dirties the white linen

then you discover a lot of things
first, the way she uses the pillow putting it just bellow her buttocks
then the way she calls your name like the hush of the break of day's breeze
from the distant sea
mournful and yet so awakening to your senses
the way she puts her legs and spreads her arms to hold your body
she is like the full moon peeping over the window that you open
you let her in and she sleeps like a fantasy dream on your bed

every sense of you wakes up like there is a fire in the house
adrenalin rushes inside your thighs
you are undressed and in the naked truth you come to her
something unspeakable
unfathomed
giving you the freedom to plunge in the paradise
long denied by them for you

you found the map to her labyrinth of pleasure
and once there
you do not want to leave

this is your home
your niche where your hands thrive like the needles of grass
where you mind glows like the stars
alive and singing

this is pleasure immeasurable
her lips her breasts her arms her abdomen her eyes
her hands gripping your hands
her feet entwined like the vine to the pillar of your house
her soft voice her moans

the cock is crowing and by all means say hello to a very
nice morning

a new day to the first day of your life.